Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 10

in a thin, white line. "Come on, think. It has to be there!"
    His gaze darted from number to number, his nimble mind ratifying each set of numbers. He finally paused, his persistence rewarded by spotting an anomaly he'd missed before. His lips softened into a sheepish smile.
    "Wait...there it is!" He grabbed a marker, rubbed out a number with the side of his fist, and wrote a different one in its place. "I can't believe I missed it! Nate would kick my ass for being so obtuse. There, that should do it." Spinning again, his fingers attacked the keyboard once more. He entered the final string of number, then jumped up from his chair and ran to the other side of the room. He picked up a universal remote control they'd rewired and souped up with a powerful nano-processor for the experiments, and entered a string of numbers onto the keypad.
    He heard the now-familiar buzzing sound, and the hair on his arms and the nape of his neck stood on end. Blue sparks crackled in the air around him just before he disappeared.
    ****
    Ben blinked. He was back, inside his past self. He shook off the strong, uncomfortable sense of déjà vu, taking stock of the situation.
    Nate was standing in front of Ben, looking angry. Then he turned and stalked toward the front door, reaching to grab his black leather jacket from the coat rack. "Do me a favor and lose my phone number, okay? We're done."
    He'd done it! He was back in time to stop the accident from happening. "Nate! Wait!" He raced across the living room and threw himself at Nate, catching Nate low around the hips. His momentum carried them both to the floor.
    "Are you fucking nuts? First you push me, and now you attack me?" Nate struggled to push Ben off him. "I ought to file assault charges on you!"
    "Listen to me, Nate! I did it! I came back in time. I had to save your life!"
    "What are you fucking talking about? Have you gone completely mad?"
    "I swear it's true! You left without your helmet, Nate. See? It's over there, on the sofa. You died tonight, Nate. It took me an entire year to figure out how to get back here in time to save you!"
    "I died? What kind of bullshit are you throwing here, Ben?" Nate thrashed, and slammed his fist against Ben's back.
    Ben hung on for all he was worth, ignoring the pain. There was no way he was going to let Nate go. "It isn't bullshit. Listen to me, please! I can prove it. The rain is making the roads slick. In about thirty seconds, a pickup truck is going to go into a skid right outside the front door. It's going to hit your bike. If I'd let you walk out the door, you would've been on it."
    Nate opened his mouth but before he could reply, the squeal of brakes reached their ears, followed by the sound of crunching metal. He stared for a moment at Ben, disbelief flashing in his eyes. Then he pulled away, stood up, and opened the door.
    Outside, a man was climbing out of a pickup truck, shaking his head at the crumpled motorcycle he'd hit, and probably thanking God no one had been riding it.
    "Oh, my God. How did you know...?" He gasped. "You did it! You really did it." Nate turned back toward Ben, his eyes wide with wonder. "You went back in time! Do you realize what you've done?" An excited grin suddenly split his face, and he laughed. "You were right, Ben. You went back, and nothing bad happened! Think of what this could mean for the world. I can't believe I was so worried I almost ditched the entire experiment."
    Ben frowned and grabbed Nate's arm, pulling him back inside the house. He shut the door behind them. "No, no! I was wrong, Nate. You were right to be worried. It's impossible to go back without changing things."
    "What do you mean? As long as we're careful—"
    Ben sighed with both relief and a touch of bitterness. "No. The laws of physics still apply. Two objects can't occupy the same space. When I came back, I entered my past self's consciousness. I altered my perception of reality, Nate. I changed me , and I lost a part of me when it happened. My memories have huge, gaping holes in them. For example, I know I spent an entire year working on our research, trying to fix the flaw that kept me from coming back in time to save you, trying over and over again, making trip after trip back, but it's all a blur now. Even worse, the memory of my life before our argument is like a dream I can only half-remember. Going back in time did something to my brain. I'm afraid the paradox of my future self and past self sharing the same space may have